precious
by sugar free vanilla
Summary: '"Marry me." The words tangle in their rush to escape his parted lips, a blur of heartfelt longing and breathless apprehension.'


**This is from a prompt on the castlefanficprompts tumblr (I'll post it at the bottom, for those who don't want to know exactly what happens). I'm not sure about this, but then I never am! **

**I sort of love prompts so - if you want - feel free to send me them via PM, or message me on tumblr (mine's castleholic).**

**I guess this is post-Still, pre-Squab and the Quail? I dunno.**

**Hope you like it!**

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The Old Haunt has transformed into an era bygone, a speakeasy straight from the prohibition days. Oil lamps are mounted on the walls, casting an amber glow over the otherwise shadow-cast faces of men in homburgs or fedoras as they swirl around their partners; the women are a dizzying mixture of playful flapper girls and ladies in sweeping evening gowns draped over svelte frames.

There are stools at the bar, permanent booths that line the edge of the room as usual but a large portion of the floor has been cleared so that the patrons can dance and make merry to their hearts' content. At the edge of this space stands Kate Beckett, swathed in cream silk that falls to the ground, short tassels that pattern the fabric spinning out as Castle twirls her before bringing her in close as the music changes from upbeat to slow, sensual.

The press of his body against hers sets her blood singing, a contented hum vibrating down the soft curve of her spine. Nestling her head further into the crook of his neck, she breathes her love for him against his skin, exults in their closeness.

Castle's hand slides across Kate's bare back, palm scorching her with delicious heat as they sway to the slow jazz floating from across the room, the pianist's clever fingers flying across the ivory keys. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of him, she shifts her hand from his shoulder to scrape through the bristled hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a long, lazy kiss. It's a slow slide of lips against lips, tongues courting each other with reverent precision and effortless rhythm.

It's ethereal, this moment - locked in his arms, mouths fused together as they dance on the spot, keeping time with the serene music. The cleared floor of the Old Haunt is crowded, other couples slow dancing in their own bubbles, dozens of intimate memories being created by the spark of magic that dances in the air, setting hearts alight.

Kate smiles against his lips before he pulls away, a delicate thing - yet so strong, so firm in its irrepressible joy. The look in his cerulean eyes floors her, stealing the breath from her lungs and flooding her cheeks with roses.

She almost misses the words he blurts against the crown of her head as he guides her back to lean on his shoulder once more, her lips tracing love letters against the rasp of stubble under his jaw.

But she hears with fathomless clarity, his request thundering in her ears in a melodious cacophony of emotions.

"Marry me." The words tangle in their rush to escape his parted lips, a blur of heartfelt longing and breathless apprehension.

She jerks her head up in shock, knocks her brow against the hard line of his chin in her haste to stare up at him.

He looks somewhere between hopeful and terrified, a touch of confusion creeping into his eyes - like he hadn't consciously meant to say it but he wants it.

God, she wants it too.

His gaze meets hers, then scans her face.

Kate gapes at him - once, twice - and then to be sure she hadn't misheard (it is loud in the bar, even if she thinks she'd heard him clear as day), she speaks five words that have entirely an entirely unintended effect. A soft utterance, gentle in her subtle bewilderment. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Castle's body stiffens around her and her fingers slip over the strained chords at his neck. "I - uh," He's hedging. Bitter acid drips onto the fluttering wings of hope in Kate's stomach at his reluctance, slows the frantic beating but does not subdue it entirely. Shyly, she meets his gaze, teeth sinking deep into her bottom lip as she waits him out. He parts his lips, clears his throat - and then presses his lips together again, releasing her from his clutch. "I've gotta go talk to the bouncer - that guy at the bar is way too drunk. Lowering the tone - I'll just be a minute."

She lets him go, rocking back on her heels. She hadn't even realised she'd pushed up on tiptoe to maximise their proximity and now it feels like more than her feet are falling to the ground. The giddy elation that's soared through her veins all evening sours to disappointment, the high she's been on from the perfection of the evening escaping her with one heavy exhalation. She leans against the wall, watches the guests as they laugh and drink and dance, soaks in their joviality as she waits. And waits.

Unthinkingly, her eyes search for him, try to focus on the magnetic pull that tugs them towards each other, inevitable in its outcome. She finds nothing and it strikes her with a hornet's sting - he's left.

Bolted, from the bar.

Kate weaves between the couples spinning around the room, snatching the faux-fur stole from the back of her chair and the clutch from under it, through the hot clusters of people drinking in groups and out the door - following him, before she can think better of it. It's only once she's on the street, her boulevard heels tapping against the sidewalk that she realises she doesn't know where she's following him _to._

Surely - if Castle was running from her, he wouldn't go home, back to his loft?

_Unless, _a bare thread of a thought catches her attention, _unless he want you to follow?_

She doesn't hesitate in giving his address to the grizzled driver of the grimy cab she flags, cutting her eyes to the window to block out the man's unwelcome lecherous leer, reflecting back to her in the dust caked rear-view mirror.

The journey crawls by, every change of the illuminated digits on the dashboard passes with an age to the next. When the car finally - _finally - _pulls up at Castle's building she tosses a crumpled twenty dollar bill at the cabbie, mutters a quick thanks as he wishes her a _fun evening_, voice dripping with innuendo.

She's fishing for her key in the depths of her bag even as she stabs repeatedly at the call button, ignoring the strange looks the doorman sends her way as she abuses the thing. She pulls the key out with a hiss, the knuckles on her right hand scraping over the jagged edges of the cool and coming away bloody. She tries to ignore the throb as the elevator inches its way up to the sixth floor, agonisingly leisurely, bursts out as soon as the doors open.

She fumbles with opening the door, key sticking in the lock - her fingers decide to be thick and clumsy, any sign of their usual elegance gone from them.

Stumbling gracelessly into the loft's reception area, she casts a searching gaze over the room, sags in relief as she spots his suit jacket folded over the arm of the sofa. He's here.

She finds him in the study - lit only by the orange glow of the streetlight beyond the window - cradling a glass of amber scotch, fingertips steepled. He does this when he's thinking, she's noticed - just sits in his office, swirling the liquid and staring intently at it as though he can read it like tea leaves.

"Rick." Kate murmurs into the darkness and he startles, the whiskey jumping from the tumbler to splash over him . "Uh - sorry for making you jump."

Castle ignores the dark patch that blossoms across the front of his shirt, rising to his feet as his undone bow tie slithers from around his shoulders to pool on the floor, a serpent-like coil, one hand sliding into his pocket.

"Kate - you - I… I'm so sorry." His chin drops. shoulders slump and for such a large man he seems terribly small, vulnerable. It tugs at her heartstrings - he can't be mad at him for long, not when he's like this: all sad little boy, eyes heavy with it.

She's silent for a long moment, the words that teeter on her lips not right - too weak, or casual. Too much subtext where they need to communicate. So she closes them, lifting the corners and takes his hand. Pulls him to the window where she's scattered pillows so she can watch the world go by as he writes, pushes him to sit and then slips into his lap, the thump of his heart against her cheek. The fingers of her uninjured hand scratch through his hair tenderly.

"You're hurt." He cradles her right hand in both of this, squints to see the raw skin in the half-light spilling through the window.

"I was in a bit of a hurry." She brushes her lips against his; weak, worried smile meeting his frowning mouth. "Don't apologise again - just tell me why you ran?" It's tentative, curiosity branching out anxious feelers in search of an explanation.

"You pretended not to hear… I know you heard, I could tell - it just… bad memories, you know?"

_Oh. Oh, God, Rick._

He carries on before she can prevent it. "It's fine - you're not ready again, I can wait, _I can. _I just freaked out and headed off in the other direction before I could get hurt. I'm so sorry, Kate. Please, forgive me?"

"Babe." She palms his face, a worshipping hold as she stretches up bump her nose against his. "You stole my move. Running away when things get scary." His huff of laughter hits her skin and she allows a smile to slip onto her lips, tugging back slightly so he can see it, one hand shifting to the back of his neck to hold herself up. "But I'm not running from this… I'm ready, if you are?"

The azure of his eyes gleam - a beacon of hope and awe in the semi-darkness. "I wasn't planning on proposing tonight." She nods, had figured as much. There's only a tiny twinge of sadness, the plucking of the thinnest ukulele strings in her heart. "But - I do have a ring." Her breath catches in her chest, her stomach a jungle of exotic broad-winged butterflies - bright and colourful and oh so joyous.

"Can - can I see it?" Her voice is strung high, tremulous wavers rocking through it.

Castle wraps an arm around her waist, lifting her slightly as he reaches into his pocket. He lowers her back down, maneuvers her so that she's facing him, long legs locking around his midsection as he sinks back against the scatter cushions.

He holds up his fist, fingers curled in, lifts it between them. Slowly, so slowly - it's a movement that despite its innocence creates a more profound connection than any moment they've shared before - she unfurls his hand, opening it like a flower blooming, to reveal the velvet box in his palm.

Her rabbit heart scampers beneath her ribs, a too-fast thrum that leaves her sick with excitement and love -

"Ask me." She tells him before he can even open the box, cerulean blue darting to meet her gaze in surprise.

"Now? I had - a thing planned. Intimate, like you said you'd prefer when Ryan proposed…"

"Now - Castle, I don't want to wait. I want this, you, it all. I love you."

"You've kind of ruined the air of suspense, Beckett. Clueing me into what your answer's going to be." Kate dips her forehead against his, sighs her amusement against his lips.

"Doesn't get more intimate than this, Rick." She mumbles against his mouth and feels his grin against hers.

"Kate," His voice wraps around the single syllable, the sweetest of honeys as it slides from his tongue to land in the millimetres of air between them. "Will you marry me?"

It's simple and understated and nearly barks out a laugh from the absurdity of it all - she's wearing a nineteen twenties' evening grown, hitched up to her waist so she can slot against him more easily; he's in no shoes and an alcohol-stained dress shirt but then he flips the lid on the box.

And, _oh,_ it's gorgeous. She wants to slip it on her finger and never take it off again, to spend the rest of her life admiring the shattered rainbows refracting from the subtle grouping of diamonds set against the platinum band.

"Yes." Is her simple reply, golden starbursts fizzing through her blood like champagne, a sparkling laugh bubbling from her lips in pure ecstasy as he pushes the band past her knuckle.

"Yes." She says again - and then she can't stop, an infinite waterfall of the word streaming from her lips. "Yes yes yes yes. Yes. _Yes. _Yes! Oh, God, yes. Yes yes yes."

"You know, Kate," he grins wryly, fiddling with the loop of metal on her finger, venerating it with a devoted touch. "Normally people just say: 'Yes, yes. A million times, yes.' They don't _actually _say it a million times. Though I've always loved your tendency to go that extra mile."

"I hate you." A soft thump as her hand bats at his broad chest.

"The ring on your finger says otherwise. Unless… you want me to take it back?"

She snatches her hand to her chest, cradles the ringed appendage. She makes eye contact, steamy and intense - his eyes darken, cobalt mixing with cerulean in a dangerous, exhilarating blend.

But when Castle reaches for her, Kate leans further back, keeps him on tenterhooks until she holds out her hand in admiration. Her gaze jumps to his, playful and teasing now as she waggles the fingers.

"_We wants it. We needs it. Must have the precioussss." _She hisses, and he startles back on a laugh, her unprecedented (and frighteningly accurate) Gollum impression taking him by surprise. "So, no." She adds. "You can't have it back. It's mine, now and forever."

"Much like myself." He tells her, pressing his palm against her cheek in a summer breeze of a caress. The space between them fills with a chemical charge, sets her heart stuttering as she leans in to meet his kiss.

"I like the sound of that," her tone reverberates in a hum, shivers through her lips and into his as she stands, taking his hand.

Nostalgia sweeps through her, a tide lapping at the shores of her consciousness as she leads Castle to their bedroom - so like their first time, so intense, powerful.

She slips her dress from one shoulder, a nod to that night and he notices, of course he does. Releases the cascade of curls from her careful updo with a few dexterous stroke of his clever fingers, brushing them away to leave her collar bone bare. Gently lowers her body to the bed, steals love from her lips as her grip shifts to curl around his neck.

Just like the first time - except so much _more_.

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**Prompt: "Caskett go out on a date and while they are dancing Rick blurts out Marry me to Kate, Kate asks him what did he say, Castle freaks out and leaves, Kate goes to the loft and finds him in his study she sits on his lap and they talk,extra fluffy" -KBECKETTCASTLEALWAYS**


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